


Desk of a Manager

by zoemargaret



Series: Manager Verse [3]
Category: Football RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-23
Updated: 2009-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoemargaret/pseuds/zoemargaret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pep has sex with Bojan. On his desk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desk of a Manager

"Yes, it's an amazing feeling." "Pep is our inspiration." "Yes, Spain has a chance in the world cup." "No I'm not disappointed about not being called up, I'm playing for the under 21 squad." "I'm going to relax, what else?"

It's an endless stream of questions anywhere they go. Camp Nou isn't even safe right now. Unless they're actually on the pitch with a ball at their feet, they're fair game. On the plus side, Carles, Thierry and Gerard seem more than happy to talk, and even Leo is getting over his shyness to talk to someone. Fuck it. He ducks into Pep's office, secure in the knowledge that no one will dare chase him in here.

He leans against the door. He really can't wait for the under-21 cup. He knows he's going to be teased about it later, but he's just relieved to be playing this summer. He was pretty certain he'd be called up, but you never know.

Chattering voices and the click of cameras herald more reporters or fans and he holds his breath. They draw closer. He counts his options: not any. There's no other doors and with his luck, he'd jump out of the window onto a camera or something. "Really, Mr. Guardiola," he hears a man saying, "Just a few pictures..." Out of options, he sprints for the desk and just manages to tuck himself into the well before the door opens.

There's chattering words and questions but most importantly, there's also Pep's voice, calm and controlling, completely in control of the people in his office. At this point, it's an automatic response: Bojan gets hard. He squirms until he gets a hand on his cock. There's a creaking on the wood above him as someone leans on the desk, Pep by the sound of his voice.

"Of course I'm proud of my team," he says. "But, right now, the most important thing is discipline. If I praise them too much, they might think they can be late to practice." Everyone chuckles, and Bojan bites his lip. Pep is so fucking hot when he's managing. He carefully eases down his zipper, holding his breath. There's no response, so he slides his hand into his pants and grabs his cock. He slaps his other hand across his mouth. Maybe it's the fact that he's been fucked raw in this office, maybe it's the danger of a bunch of reporters with cameras standing only feet away. Whatever the reason, he fully hard and ready to come.

From the sounds behind him, it sounds like the interviews are wrapping up. "OK Mr. Guardiola, if we could get a few of you behind the desk?"

Pep snorts. "You know, we won over a week ago. Shouldn't you be tired of me by now?" The other people laugh.

"This'll be going on for years," one remarks good-naturedly.

"Or until the national team plays next week, right?" But Pep obediently walks around the desk. Bojan smiles at the joke until he realizes what's about to happen. Pep is going to sit at the desk and he's going to realize Bojan's here and he's going to be surprised and the reporters... He stops thinking and huddles back as far as he can, cock wilting in his hand. He'd been excited by the _possibility_ of discovery, not the real thing. His only hope is if he can scoot far enough back so that Pep doesn't notice him.

Pep sits in the chair and rolls forward. "Like this?" he asks sarcastically, doing something with his hands that makes the reporters laugh. He rolls further under the desk and Bojan huddles as small as he can, trying desperately to avoid any contact.

And he's terrified of being found out like this, like a child hiding underneath a desk, but...Pep's gray trousers fit him perfectly, and as he leans forward Bojan can see the clear outline of his cock. He swallows. There hasn't been time for anything what with the end of the season and Champions League and Bojan remembers that he's still not tasted Pep's cock. Even with reporters less than five feet away, he's so tempted to bury his head between those thighs. His teeth ache with the need to just bite down, to nibble at the ridge highlighted against Pep's thigh. Furtively he grabs his cock again.

And then Pep is up and moving away, ushering the reporters out. Pleasant goodbyes, a few more jokes, and then the click of the door. Just as Bojan relaxes, he hears slow footsteps. He freezes again. "Fuck, oh fuck," he thinks, biting on his hand. The footsteps come closer and closer and he gets more and more tense.

"Well, what have we here?" Pep cocks his head at Bojan, smile playing along his lips. Bojan smiles up sheepishly.

"Um, hiding?"

Pep runs his hand over his face. "Do you know how hard it was to sit still," he says as he sits down, "Knowing you were down there? Knowing you were," he slides his leg between Bojan's thighs and playfully nudges his bare cock with his shoe, "touching yourself?" He slides the toe of his shoe along Bojan's cock and it's enough to make him hard again. Pep slouches down even further, thighs spreading. Bojan shuffles closer without being asked, eyes glued to the thickening bulge. He quickly slips in between Pep's thighs to nuzzle at his crotch, brushing his cheek against the bulge. He deliberately licks his lips then pouts up at the other man.

"I still haven't tasted your cock," he whispers before he presses his lips damply against the crease of his thigh.. "I want to." He keeps his eyes on Pep, and sees how his cheeks and throat flush red, how his lips part. He leans forward and pushes his face into Pep's crouch, inhaling the scent of Pep's arousal, his sweat. "Please?" he murmurs.

Pep strangles a laugh. "Do you really think I'd say no?" he asks as he unbuckles his pants. Bojan, too eager, fumbles down the zipper and pulls out his cock without finesse. Without pause he kisses the head, licking up the precome and sweat. He runs his tongue up and down, lavishing attention to the thick vein running underneath, learning his cock. Only after he's licked and kissed every inch does he take the head into his mouth. He sucks so hard his cheeks hollow and Pep's hand threads through his hair. He waits, but Pep remains still, allowing him to control the pace. Relaxing, he focuses on pushing his mouth down as far as possible. He manages a few inches before he gags, but he just pulls back to breathe before diving back down again. He forces himself down even more, Pep's cock a heavy weight on his tongue, down his throat. His eyes water, but he keeps pushing down, down.

Suddenly Pep's hand is tugging his hair, pulling him off. Bojan obeys with a whimper, staring pleadingly at the other man. "Wh-" he manages to say before Pep drags him out. Still seated, he pushes Bojan back against the desk. He yanks down his pants before putting his hands on his hips. Bojan get the hint and hops on the desk, scooting back till Pep is satisfied. Pep rolls closer. "Is that the first time you've sucked cock?" he asks as he casually fists Bojan's. Bojan bites his lip in pleasure and nods, eyes screwed shut with pleasure. Pep growls and Bojan opens his eyes to see the other man staring at him hungrily. "Sit back," he commands. He roughly pushes his thighs apart and before Bojan realizes it, his mouth is on his cock.

Bojan _wails_ and arches up before he can control himself, burningwethot. One hand grabs the side of the desk, the other one cupping Pep's head. It takes everything he has to not pull, but he somehow manages. Pep bobs up and down before pulling off to lick the head, tongue flickering on the crown. Bojan whimpers. "Please," he says, voice wrecked. "Pep, please."

Pep's lick curve around his cock and then. One smooth slide and Bojan's cock is all the way down his throat. It feels so good. His body tenses, curls up and around Pep's head. He breathes harder and harder, getting closer to the edge with every second. He frantically scrabbles against Pep's head, desperate for something, anything. And then Pep hums. His throat vibrates against his cock, intensifying every movement, every twinge of pleasure, and Bojan's screaming, orgasm shooting through his system almost painfully. He jerks up into Pep's mouth, one hand clamped over his own mouth to stifle the noise, the other white-knuckling the desk. He lets the white waves overwhelm him.

He's vaguely aware of of Pep pulling his shoes and pants all the way off before standing. He tries to concentrate, he does. But all he can really do is loll on top of the desk and run his hands along his stomach. He obligingly hitches his legs up as Pep pushes them up. He understands what Pep's after and he scoots his ass to the edge of desk, giving a happy little moan in anticipation.

Pep yanks at a drawer. "Do you have any idea how you look," he asks savagely as he smears lotion over his fingers, "Spread over my desk like that?" Despite his harsh words, his fingers are gentle at his entrance. Bojan whimpers as his fingers coax him open, sliding and scissoring, stretching him out.

"I'm ready," he gasps eagerly, fisting his hardening cock.

Pep looks down at him and huffs a laugh. "To be nineteen again," he murmurs. He slicks his cock with the excess lotion and lines up his cock. "Have you been fucked since last time?" he asks, voice cool even as he slides the head of his cock into Bojan.

Bojan whines high in his throat and tries to push down, but Pep just bends his legs against his chest, taking away all his leverage. "No," he says, voice wrecked. "Nothing since you."

Pep stills. "Nothing?" he asks carefully. "Nothing at all? I find that," he thrusts an inch or so deeper, "that hard to believe."

Bojan chuckles breathily. "Well, remember my dildo?"

"Did you fuck yourself with it?" Another smooth thrust.

"Yes," Bojan says, hands going up to pull and pinch at his nipples. "Every night. I push it in and wish it was you."

Pep groans and shoves the rest of the way in. Bojan hisses at the sharp pain but arches up into it all the same. He bites his lip and looks up through his eyelashes. "It doesn't feel as good as you," he admits, tongue slipping out to lick his bitten lip. "I shove it deep," he gasps as Pep shoves in hard, "but it's not enough."

"Kiki," Pep grits out. "Fuck." He leans over and plants his hands against the desk, hips thrusting erratically. He opens his eyes and stares down at him. "Keep touching yourself."

Bojan tilts his hips and Pep slips in deeper. He smiles lazily, naughtily. "How?" he asks innocently. "Like this?" He licks his finger, sliding it in and pulling it out slowly, lewdly, only to slide another one in. Pep pushes closer, eyes glued to his mouth. His weight crushes Bojan's legs to his chest and he whimpers softly, unable to breathe. It takes a moment, but Pep pulls up just enough for him to get air.

And sure he can breathe, but who wants that? He drops his wet fingers to his nipple, flicking it into hardness then pinching it so hard he whimpers. With his other hand he reaches out and grabs Pep's wrist, anchoring himself. Pep's really fucking him now, every moment in and out bringing him closer to edge.

Abruptly Bojan is too close to tease. He reaches down and desperately grabs his cock, fisting with Pep's thrusts.

Pep bares his teeth in a savage grin. "Are you close?" he gasps. Bojan nods frantically. Pep thrusts in one, two, three more times and starts to come.

He pulls out. Bojan whimpers at the sudden loss, eyes pleading. Pep grabs Bojan's thigh with one hand and uses the other to direct his spasming cock at Bojan. As the first splash of come hits his stomach, Bojan comes for the second time. He gasps for air, pleasure radiating throughout, centered on his cock and the hot streaks of come that decorate his stomach and chest. He's exhausted, but he dips a shaky finger in the puddle on his stomach and brings it to his lips. He licks it off, savoring his first taste of Pep.

Pep collapses on top of him, Bojan's legs splaying out the sides. Pep's hairy stomach rubs against Bojan's oversensitive cock and he whines, pouting. "Pep," he complains. Completely disregarding his whining, Pep leans down and kisses him, tongue searching out his own come. Bojan makes a happy noise against his mouth, allowing him to ravage his mouth. When he finally pulls away, Bojan's lips feel swollen and raw. He stares at Pep, too tired to be seductive or teasing.

Judging by the look in Pep's eyes, he doesn't care.

 

 

 

 


End file.
